


Don't pet stray dogs because they might give you fleas!

by robinlaws



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlaws/pseuds/robinlaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Joui war. Otose takes in the stray she finds at her husband's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't pet stray dogs because they might give you fleas!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man I haven't written a story for ages and last time I did, they were for different fandoms or for school assessments. Just taking my first steps in writing fanfics for Gintama. Lol I have no idea what else to say, I have a lot of feels for Otose and Gin. Kudos and comments will be appreciated! I'd love to hear some constructive criticism!

 

  
It is snowing. The skies are grey, the wind is biting at her face but she heads down the all too familiar path, hearing only the crunch of the snow covered ground beneath her feet. It's been a year since she last visited, but it's been her tradition for far too many years. She lays the plate down on stone, then the manju, then stands to leave. Her husband speaks to her.

Only it's not her husband. It's a stray dog, sniffing at her offerings, begging for food.

Once it's eaten, she walks around the tombstone to get a better look at the insolent stray. He is bloodied, bruised and beaten. He is starving and freezing to death and she tells him to come with her. He staggers to his feet- bare, dirty feet that have walked miles- hand against the stone to steady himself before she gets a better look at his face. A face that is young and handsome but sorrowful.

He does not seem to be any older than 20 but those deadened eyes are of those of a broken man who has seen too much. What broke him, she knew all too well of; the streets were littered with the same eyes of war veterans- good young men, samurai whose wills to live were as broken as the swords they once held. They roamed over town- Kabukichou: a town for the lost and misguided- like beaten dogs, head lowered when they walked past Amanto.

The ghosts that survived the war are few today, for it is cold and they have hidden themselves in the tight alleys to keep warm, but those places are too often the very places where they die, unwitnessed and uncared for. Nobody mourns them and nobody notices. Perhaps that is why this stray was in the graveyard. A fitting place for him to die, had she not found him.

He follows her silently, head down as though concentrating on every step he has to take; he's just a weak stray following the promise of warm food and a roof over his head. He asks why she is taking him in when he can be a thief and she agrees, only that she isn't one to leave a stray dog to starve to death. She is unsure who is more foolish here, but she walks on and he is quiet once more.

 

 

She hands the stray some clothing- they belonged to her husband, but for now he could put them to better use- and orders him to wash. She also hands him ointment for his wounds. He soon emerges in his new clothes, and she tells him to follow her to the bar where she gave him more food. He eats and she tells him to sleep. She has set up a futon and she watches him go, half wondering whether the stray would pass on in his sleep. He deserves a peaceful passing, though he seems more to be the type who would fight death itself.

 

 

She is awakened by cries. For a moment, in her sleepiness, she wondered why there was a baby in the house before she remembers with a jolt. Her stray dog is crying alone in the dark. She lights a candle, enters the spare room where her stray is sleeping in, except he is not sleeping but reliving through something terrible. His groans are louder now that she is closer, and though he is pulling the covers off him, sweat is beading on his forehead. She sets the candle down beside him and touches his shoulder. It is gentle but he wakes, eyes flying open and she is almost shocked by the fear she sees. 

He does not see in his feverish state and he scrambles backwards till he is backed against the wall, groping blindly for anything that can be used as a weapon. She says nothing, does nothing and waits for him calm down.

 

 

It's the fourth night and she sits by his futon, holding his hand. The worst of the nightmares are over, and he has finally settled into sleep.

 

 

Shiroyasha, the white demon.

She hears many whispers in her bar. Shiroyasha is the demon who tore through entire armies by himself. The white-haired, white-clothed demon called from the very depths of hell, the very personification of the samurai's fury unleashed upon the Amanto and Bakufu. Some said he was just a myth used to stir troops into action, others argued he was real. He was said to have disappeared after the war; a shame because his head would guarantee a hefty reward from the government. There were rumours that he was alive after all, perhaps still on the run, though they finally agreed that the demon probably died with the war.

She does not ask him of it, but he knows they are talking of him. His complexion has improved so she has set him to work, pouring drinks and putting away money, though she reflects whether it is a good idea.

 

 

It is after the war, so he should be living a normal life. Normal? What is normal, when he has grown up fighting men, Amanto and himself, he asks, and she admonishes him. Find a job, move out, because she cannot feed him till he dies. He retorts that dogs need be fed by owners but she tells him to go upstairs and make himself useful.

The second floor has been empty for 4 years, after the husband died in the war and the family left for the country where parents still lived. He could stay there, because he wasn't a child who needed her supervision constantly. His nightmares were less violent as of lately, so surely he would be able to integrate back into society.

 

 

It is not often that her patrons cause issues though it is the Amanto that are notorious for looking down on humans, puny creatures that were crushed beneath their feet, thousands scattered with one blast from their space ships. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to let the white demon work tonight. The Amanto sneered at him when he trembled in quiet anger. These were the enemies that he cut down, the enemies that cut down his comrades and here he is, serving them alcohol when his instincts told him to kill.

The man is already always on edge, senses honed sharper than a sword by the war, and she watches his fingers twitch for the sword that was not at his hip. Before she can stop him, a bottle has been smashed, and the other Amanto is bleeding, slashed by broken glass. The rowdy atmosphere turns to deadly silence and the white demon's eyes are wide, face splattered with red, and it vaults over the bar table and kicks the Amanto down.

The patrons are roaring, moving forward- but they are cheering him and spitting on the injured Amanto.

 

 

She wakes to shouts outside. She pushes the shoji open by a crack and peek outside. Silver hair is illuminated by moonlight, though the thing in his hand is obscured by his shadow. He is surrounded by a gang of Amanto and she realises they are friends of those that he injured earlier.

The Amanto are demanding him pay and threatening to tear down the bar. She does not interrupt, curious to see how good the guard dog would be. Dogs that bark are least likely to bite, though it is the Amanto that are barking loudest. Her stray speaks quietly, asking when he can go back to sleep.

 

 

It turns out the stray she took in wasn't a dog after all. It was aw wild beast, perhaps even a demon- but a demon that only gave the Amanto a good thrashing before sending them packing, tails between legs. He turns to face the shoji, and smiles.

 

 

It has been nearly a month and he sleeps upstairs now.

Yet she still knew little of his past. Digging up memories would hurt him so instead she learned of him. She watches him grow out of his shell, watches him laze around and complain, watches him become the glue that brings together countless people from all walks of life. All that pain and misery and loneliness and it just made him kind. His apathy and bravado are all an act and though she feels she understands him well, he always manages to surprise her.

Sakata Gintoki, she thinks, what an odd creature that has walked into her own life.


End file.
